Twisted (Yandere?Herobrine X Reader)

Part 2: Addicted To Your Touch

(I know I've already warned you...but seriously, this book gets WEIRD.

Alright.

Now you can't say I didn't warn you...

Moving on!)

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White flashes of light bounced off every wet surface, followed soon after by an earth shaking roar from the Heavens...

Water trickled down from leaf to leaf, beating the hollow logs below like drums. The mushrooms shook under the pelting, fragile thuds sounding every time a heavy raindrop fell.

The moon was bright enough to reveal the grass patches, which were hidden as well as they could by the layers upon layers of dense branches. Water drizzled down the rough tree bark, frogs croaked, flowers danced. The forest was more than alive that night.

Inside your sound little hut, your resting form lay peacefully in bed. Over you was a thin blue blanket. The chills of the wild night shook your sleeping body, trying to wake it in time.

          Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

The pounding on your door woke you instantly. Immediately, you were up. Quickly, you grabbed a sword which was being held by the tree roots that made up most of your wall and slowly made your way towards the door. It didn't sound like a zombie --one of the many monsters you had all but missed while Herobrine was around-- the knocking sounded equally spaced apart, meaning it was most likely a villager or another person like yourself.

Lightning cut through your windows on occasion, the water easily dripping down and through your walls. You crept past the fireplace that was now nothing but charred wood and ash, from view of the window seeing a tall, dark, shadowy figure standing patiently at your door.

You never had visitors... Hardly ever, never. Your hands began to tremble, sweat quickly building around the handle of your blade. Though you knew how to kill, you considered yourself more of a pacifist. Rarely did you engage in combat, even if it was to defend yourself. You'd rather just run. But... here... in your own house... You hoped what little you had practiced would be good enough...

Slowly, with your right hand, you grabbed the door knob and turned it. With the left you held the sword and got ready to stab- You opened the door.... Your sword dropped to the ground. You began to scream.

The menacing silhouette of Herobrine stood through the door frame, his eyes barely wincing at the intense reaction you had. Grasping your chest suddenly, you began to pant heavily. You even slumped forwards as if recovering from a stab to the chest... Only, you hadn't been stabbed. No, there was no pain to recall! You had built it up in your mind so much now over the past week that the next time you saw Herobrine you would be dead, your gut reaction was to immediately assume you had just been attacked! After a moment, you began to realize Herobrine showed no signs whatsoever of wanting to hurt you either. He just stood there, quietly questioning your absurd reaction. You picked yourself up at last, one final recovering breath being sucked into your lungs.

"I told you to never come back!" You shouted with that gained breath, directly into his face. Still, he just stood there. You waited for him to respond, to argue, to throw up his hands and shout back a response!.. But he did none of those. He just stood there, eyes squinting, the rain pelting down on his back and soaking every inch of his clothes, which appeared to again be the basic pants and T-shirt you were used to seeing him wear. "...Are you alright?" You finally took half a step back, concern in your eyes as you tried your best to study his dark silhouette against the small field of damp grass shining in the moonlight behind him.